“To be honest, Austin. I'm perfectly happy with everything you've given me.” I try not to blush again. That would be a bit overkill, I think. “But I want … all of it.” Austin follows my gaze.
“All of it?”
“I want to try it all,” I whisper, looking back at him. “And you're supposed to teach me. You promised.”
Chapter 30
Austin
“I can only teach what I know,” I tell Amy, gaze getting stuck on this, that, or the other thing. There is a lot to look at in here. Shit on a stick son of a bitch. I'm standing in a sex shop right now. Didn't even know there were so many interesting little add-ons. I've been quite happy with the base package thus far in life.
Amy slides her hand away from my face and tucks some of that silky chestnut hair behind her ear. My fingers twitch as I not only imagine but specifically recall wrapping my fist in it and pullin' hard. I have to swallow back a wave of lust. While it might be okay to walk around a place like this with a hard-on, the girl tidying up the shelves is givin' me nasty looks. I'd rather not give her a reason to stare at my junk.
“Then I guess we'll learn together,” Amy coughs out, voice rough as she skitters away from me, moving just out of my reach and stopping next to a display of handcuffs. Oh, Lord above, hell yes. I step up behind her, rubbing my body along her back but keeping my hands to myself. The sharp intake of breath that slides between her pearly pink lips makes me growl into her ear.
“Think we'll take one of these,” I say, snatching a box off the wall and sliding past Miss Amy and her suddenly tight lips. She glances over at me with her sharp as shit blue eyes. I grab a candle, too. A pink one. Not sure exactly what I'm going to do with it, but when Amy smiles at me, I decide I'm on the right track. “And this.” I grab the pink vibrator with the twirly thing on the top. Doesn't look a damn thing like a dick to me, but maybe that's the point?
“Are you interested in penetration or vibration or both?” the sales lady asks, appearing by my side like a ghost. The whole movement sort of reminds me of Kent, and I have to do my best not to scowl. When he did shit like that, it was like watching an arch villain vampire materialize in thin air. To be fair, this woman is a lot less scary, like a sidekick instead of a nemesis or something.
“Darlin', I ain't interested in either.” I nod my chin over at Amy. “But my baby mama probably would prefer vibration.” I look over at Amy and find her biting her lip again. The look in her eyes is gentle though, loving. I don't ever want to lose that expression. The day I do is the day I'm a dead man, in the heart at least if not the soul. “She gets plenty o' penetration at home.”
“Austin Sparks!” Amy scolds, coming over to stand next to me and snatching the pink vibrator from my fingers. She puts it back on the shelf. “First off, that's the display model. Second, this nice lady here doesn't want to hear about our sex life.” The woman waves her hand dismissively.
“Wouldn't be the first or last time I'd hear all the sordid details. You would not believe what information some people will share.” The woman adjusts her tank top, no longer interested in checking me out, but focused more on Amy now. “So vibration then? During intercourse or just when the man's out of town?” I let out a bark of laughter, holding up my hands and stepping back. I'll let Amy handle this part of the conversation. She gives me another look as I move towards the entrance that leads to the front of the store.
“You get whatever you want, sugar.” I set the candle and the handcuffs down on the countertop. “But make sure you get this crap, too.” I smile wide. “I'm going to pick you out something to wear.”
/P>
Chapter 31
Amy
Austin and I return to the house with an oversized black bag, bulging with goodies. I make him carry it past the Triple M'ers working in the front yard and pretend I don't hear the whoops and the catcalls. They happen often enough anyway that I'm learning to block them out. But I'm still not willing to carry a heaping bag of sex toys past a bunch of rough around the edges biker folk.
Gaine's standing in the entryway when we walk in, eyes immediately catching on the bag swinging in Austin's grip. I don't look at him either – it's not easy knowing he caught us doing the naughty not an hour or so previous. The Walk of Shame is something that should never exist because if you're shamed by what you're doing, why the hell are you doing it? More Sali Bend wisdom to wrap around my body as I ignore the raised brow and the curious brown eyes that follow us up the stairs.
I don't know what I was expecting when I took Austin to that shop, but I don't think it was this. I guess I assumed we might buy a vibrating cock ring or something, a small trifle or token to play around with. I had no clue he'd buy me a vibrator, some handcuffs, and a silicone dildo – in purple.
“You're a saint among men,” I tell him as we step into my beautifully decorated bedroom. My eyes catch on the crib and my fingers trickle across my belly. I threw up this morning before I went exploring, but only once. And I took four more pregnancy tests, just to be sure. So while the morning sickness is getting better, I am most assuredly quite pregnant. I touch my hands to my face and turn to look at Austin as he closes the door behind me.
The window is open, sunshine streaming through the light lacy curtains that Austin hung for me. Birds chirp cheerfully, mixing with the background noise of shovels, saws, and hammers.
“Thank you for carrying those. I didn't particularly want to drag them past Gaine.” Austin tosses the bag on the bed, and then grins wide at me.
“You're worried about what that son of a bitch thinks? After he and Mireya got caught nailing each other in a stairwell at a hotel by a couple of ol' folks? Shit. And this is the same guy that put a badger down his pants to win a bet in gym class. Ignore that stupid ass.” The lock on the door clicks into place a split second second before Austin's rubbing up behind me, showing me exactly how he feels about our day thus far. His erection grinds against my lower back, teasing me mercilessly. If he doesn't stop that, I'm going to pull on his Prince Albert piercing, and quite roughly, too. Who am I kidding anyway? Austin would probably like that.
“We should probably go help with the demolition on the second house,” I tell Austin, even though my voice cracks when I say it. Austin's hands grip my elbows as he leans in and kisses my neck.
“We should probably do whatever the fuck it is I say we're going to do. Otherwise, I won't be able to think straight. Might even knock down the wrong wall on accident with this thing.” Austin presses more firmly against me. “Now, open that bag and pick your poison.”
“Dear God, you're insufferable,” I say, but I moan while I do, so it's not nearly as believable as I'd like it to be. Austin steps back just enough that I'm able to form slightly coherent thoughts, scooting onto the edge of the bed and pouring out our dirty devices en masse. I rifle through them, perfectly aware that Sparks is staring at me while at the same time opening up his pants. His dick springs free, the piercing in the head of his cock glimmering in the sunshine. I push a few of the boxes aside and grab the dildo. It's a bold choice, but I once read a scene where the hero fucked the heroine's mouth with one while he took care of the downstairs. I cough and put my fist to my lips. I have such rancid thoughts, I must've been doomed to hell from the very start. Now how on earth do I say this to Austin? We're lovers, yes, but we're still working through this strange in-between phase where some things are comfortable and easy while others are still … awkward.
I start to open the package, ignoring the little growls that are escaping his throat as he strokes himself. Now all I need to do is figure out how to phrase the question: Dear Austin, might you be able to thrust this bit of rubber into my mouth while you pound my pussy? I frown. This is not going to be an easy subject to broach, but I've been thinking about it for awhile now. Romance novels will do that to a person. Besides, this is the closest thing to a threesome I'll probably ever get. Not that I particularly want another man in the bedroom with us, but Austin would never al
low it.
“Lay on your back and fuck yourself with it while I watch,” he snarls, and I nearly jump out of my skin, clutching the toy to my chest as I glance over my shoulder at him. Austin is playing with his piercing now, enjoying the look on my face as I stare at him with wide eyes.
“I'll need to lube it up first,” I whisper, enjoying the way he grits his teeth and shoves his jeans violently down so that they hit the floor around his booted feet. I stand up and move over to Austin, trying to be coy. It's still a skill I'm working on. I touch my fingers to Austin's arm, kissing his bicep and the mouth of one of his skull tattoos. I slide my tongue across his skin, tracing the lines of ink that decorate his body. I bring my other arm up and show him the purple curve of our new toy. “Maybe you could lube it up for me?” I ask sweetly. “We seem to have purchased everything but that at the store.” I fight back a blush. There's no need for that here, right? I reach the toy up and touch the head of my silicone cock to Austin's smoothly shaved jaw.
“Christ, woman,” he says, grabbing my wrist and slamming my body against the front of his. His dick presses into my belly and I bite my lip. “You trying to put a dick in my mouth?” I laugh, even though I don't mean to.
“You won't suck it for me?” I ask with a pout. Austin raises both his blonde brows at me.
“Sugar, the only one in here that's going to be doing any sucking today is you.”
Chapter 32
Austin
I pull Amy to the floor, trying to be gentle with her injured arm and all that. I don't really have any fantasies of sucking on a rubber dick, but if Amy really wanted me to, I just might. Dear Jesus, what the hell would Beck do if he ever found that shit out? Anyway, since I'd rather not, I try a different technique to distract her. Amy is quite the dirty little kitty cat, and I bet my dignity on the fact that she'll be happy with most anything creative I can come up with.
I stand back up and look down at her, stroking my dick with tight fingers, coaxing pre-cum from the tip and holding my hand out for the dildo. Amy passes it up to me diligently. I slide my fingers down the toy, coating it with my seed, and then I give it back to her.
“Fuck yourself with this while you suck me off,” I command, enjoying the feeling of taking control. Amy likes it, too. Her pupils dilate and her hand comes up, replacing my hold around the length of my shaft. She wets her lips and spreads her knees apart, reaching down with her uninjured arm and groaning as she finds her sweet spot. I watch her carefully, forcing myself to stay still while she slides the dick inside of herself. “Does that feel good, baby?” I ask as she squeezes her thighs together and sits up fully, using both hands to caress my hips, my pelvis, my balls.
“Not as good as you,” she whispers, leaning forward and licking the entire length of my shaft, from the head of my cock all the way to my sweaty body. I used to think a blow job was just a blow job, but Amy Cross, little virgin Southern girl, is the best I've ever had. Hands motherfuckin' down. I groan and tangle my fingers in her hair, not pulling, not yet, just enjoying the silky texture against my skin. When I do that, she moans, too, and the vibration tingles through my dick, straight up into my brain. That poor motherfucker is already fried to shit and we just started.
Amy licks me up and down, like a Goddamn ice cream cone, pausing with her lips against the head of my cock. One hand circles my dick nice and firm, guiding my cock around her mouth, tracing the lines of her pink lips with my piercing, like she's puttin' on makeup or some shit. Amy teases my balls while she does this, tugging them gently downwards, igniting a fast burning flame that burns away some of my self-control. I'd like to grab the back of her head and fuck the shit out of that pretty, little mouth, but I don't. I am a gentleman here, first and foremost. Fucking Christ.
“Austin,” Amy whispers, her breath cool against the slickness of my cock. “Can I try something else?”
“You aren't trying to fuck my mouth with that thing again are you?” I ask and she laughs, sending another wave of vibration into my dick.
“No.” And then she's pulling away. I keep her still with my hands in her hair.
“You keep that toy inside of you, sugar. If it falls out, you're getting a spanking.” Amy shivers, and I'm not sure that was much of a threat, but that's alright. Our bedroom is full of idle threats, the kind that sting whether you listen to 'em or not. I take control of my dick back, pumping hard and fast, squeezing tight, while I watch Amy struggle to crawl over to the bed with the dildo still stuck up inside of her. I hate to admit it, but I'm almost jealous of that fuckin' toy, ready to tear it out and toss it across the room, reclaim her pussy as my own.
Instead, I keep myself still, ready to try whatever Amy wants to throw my way. She is the Queen of the Blow Job, after all. I watch as she opens another package, pulling out an ugly white vibrator that looks more like something my momma might've put on her feet at the end of a long work day than it does a sex toy. It's just a stupid plastic wand with a round circle on the end.
Amy bites her lip and whimpers a little as she crawls towards the wall and plugs it in. She glances back at me and flicks a switch. A whirring sound cuts through the room as the vibrator gets going, buzzing sharply in the quiet afternoon. Amy comes back to me just in time, taking hold of my cock before I lose it and chase after her. I have no idea what she's got planned for this weird ass toy of hers – she picked it out when I was hunting down some lingerie – but I'm excited to find out.
Amy's lips close around the end of my cock, sliding forward, taking me in inch by careful inch. I get all excited, my heart pumping so fast it feels like I could very well have a heart attack right now and die happy. But then at the halfway point, she pulls back, taking a breath and starting over again. It's almost painful to watch her from above like this, see my dick disappearing down her throat.
“Fuckin' stars, sugar,” I moan, letting my head fall back. The vibrator is still clutched in Amy's right hand, buzzing away but useless as a bucket of water in a monsoon. I close my eyes, enjoying the slow press of her mouth, her hot heat suctioning tight around my dick. Heaven, pure fucking heaven. I got the mother of my child on her knees in front of me, and she doesn't just give good head, and she isn't just a hot lay, but she also loves me. Me. This stupid, hardheaded, flighty, piece of shit asshole that I am. She loves me, and she's told me so straight, and I ain't never repaid the favor.
Fuck.
“Amy,” I start, opening my eyes and looking down just in time to see her deep throat my entire shaft. This might not be the most romantic moment in the world, but I wanted to say it when it felt right to say it, and shit, this is it. Not exactly the best story to tell to friends and family, but it's raw and open, and that's what I'm gonna do.
Amy lifts the vibrator up to her face and presses the end of the wand against her cheek.
“Fucking Christ!” I scream, pulling her hair hard, my hips bucking uncontrollably as I come, shooting my load deep inside her throat. The vibration from Amy's ugly ass toy unravels me from head to toe, and I end up stumbling back, shaking and sweating and hornier than a hound dog in heat. “The hell you learn to do that?”
Amy flicks the switch on the vibrator, setting it gently on the floor and wiping her lips daintily with the fabric of her T-shirt. Her skin is pink all over, and her eyes rimmed with dark desire, hooded with lust. She stares up at me with her blue eyes.
“From a book.”
Alright, that's it. I'm done being a gentleman. I stalk forward, lift Amy up under the arm pits and sweep the rest of the shit we bought onto the floor.
“Lay back, Miss Cross, and I'll teach you a thing or two.”
Chapter 33
Amy
“Like what?” I ask as Austin reaches down and slides his hands up my belly. He rips my shirt off and grabs a black lacy bra from the floor.
“Like what turns me into a fucking madman. Put this on.” He gives me a pair of panties, too – a thong. I stare at the bits of fabric like I've never seen the likes of them befo
re. Me, Amy Cross, wearing lingerie? It's such an odd thought. I try not to let out any nervous laughter.
“I think I just figured that out, didn't I? Did you like the vibrator?” I smile when he growls, ripping his pants off but leaving his boots on. Oh, and the shirt comes off, too. There he is, Austin Sparks in all his glory, cock still wet from my saliva, the Triple M tattoo on his hip stark against his tense muscles.
“You can't do that to a man, not when he's about to say I love you.”
I freeze, like a deer caught in the headlights of my daddy's truck.
“What?” My voice is a whisper, my body a string, pulled so taut I can't even breathe. It doesn't help that my pussy is clenching tight around the dildo, still stuck deep inside of me, grinding against my sweet spots when I move.
“You can't just spring that crazy shit on me when I'm gearing up for the biggest moment of my fucking life.” Tears come then, even though they're silly, even though this is such an arbitrary matter in the scheme of things. Austin does love me, I know that. And I love him. And we're having a baby together, so why does this matter so much? But it does. It really, really does. “Amy,” he says, stepping closer, touching his fingers to my chin. Our eyes meet, and even though he's naked and erect, and my body is quaking with need, filled up but wanting more, I find myself thinking this is quite romantic. Our moment doesn't occur in a candlelit grove or during a fancy dinner at a French bistro, or on the top of the Empire Statement at midnight, but it does happen. It happens so fast that I don't even realize what's going on at first, that our souls are twining and twisting into one, binding us together forever. Romance isn't defined by the place or the time or even the words that are spoken, it's defined by the feeling, the sense that you would do anything – anything – for this person and that they'd do anything for you.
Craving Me, Desiring You Page 14
